


Never Enough

by distorted_knot



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, Car Accidents, Concussions, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, attn tag wranglers please make wayv and the other units subtags for nct
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:14:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28553718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distorted_knot/pseuds/distorted_knot
Summary: "It doesn't matter what you've accomplished, because you will never be good enough."Sometimes it's better not to hold things in, least they burst out in a painful, disgusting mess. Unfairly, it's Kun (forever diligent Kun) who takes the brunt of it.
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten & Qian Kun, Qian Kun & Everyone
Comments: 10
Kudos: 56
Collections: Kpop Writers - Secret Santa 2020





	Never Enough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EbbaTriesToWrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EbbaTriesToWrite/gifts).



They never doubted that Ten loved his members.

As much as Ten was sometimes carelessly blunt, never missing a moment to tease or joke in ways that weren’t always appropriate, he knew where the limit was, and never purposely went over line. They all knew he was capable of crossing it, had crossed it, with careless staff members and even higher ups that most knew better than to be so careless with. When it came to calling out their bullshit, Ten almost never bit his tongue.

If there's one thing that Ten was better at than dancing, it was knowing exactly how to strike where it hurts the most. The insecurities someone would dare not speak aloud for fear of hearing confirmation of their faults. He used it to end the confrontations he wasn’t able to keep himself out of. Yet more often than not he used it to reassure. A well planted compliment, a hug when someone’s confidence took a dip.

For the members, he almost always used it for good. Even when he got frustrated, and he did often, he would catch himself when he felt his temper getting out of hand, his tongue becoming too loose.

The worst was comeback time, as it obviously would be. The long days of finalizing the album, the choreography, recordings, preparing mentally for the interviews and tv appearances that were to come. Like they hadn’t had enough things to do in these final weeks before the comeback, the company had decided to change the choreography for this particular song at the last minute, rearranging their positions after the 2 minute mark on top of it all, and expecting them to retrain months of muscle memory for something that really was so stupidly mundane. They’d already recorded the music video with the old choreography too, so it really was so completely and utterly pointless. 

Oh had Ten raged when they’d been told of the change. But here they were, repeating a song they had memorized a month ago for the hundredth time that day.

They should have seen it coming. That the last of his control was about to fray.

It could have been any of them to cause it, but in the end it was Sicheng. During their latest runthrough he ended up a step behind after a brief hesitation as he nearly moved following the original choreography, and that brief mistake caused a minor collision with Ten. What should have been brushed off instead exploded with the snapping of Ten's temper into a full blown incident. Ten returned the minor bump with a full bodied shove that sent Sicheng nearly tumbling face first to the floor if not for Kunhang somehow managing to catch him automatically.

"Why the hell are you even here, Sicheng!" Ten seethed before anyone could catch on to what was happening. "You're a dancer and yet you can't even get this fucking right?"

Everyone was panting, trying to catch their breath as the song continued to play around them. Dejun stepped in to help Sicheng find his footing with a hand placed on the small of his back for support, but even as he locked eyes with Kunhang, neither of them could keep up to say anything. How Ten managed to find the air to continue his rampage was a mystery, but continued he did.

“Is this seriously the best you can do? Why the fuck were you in 127, because it sure as hell looks like you didn’t learn a damn thing while there!”

Kun choked on what breath he had managed to gather. “Ten!” 

At this Yukhei reached forward to grab Ten by the arm, his face a storm of fury, an angry retort forming on his lips if only he could stop panting.

But Ten wasn't done, slipping out of Yukhei’s reach, his wild, furious, fiery glare never leaving Sicheng as he prepared to spit all the scatching remarks that spewed forth like vomit, unabated. Kun saw it coming, the last threads fraying on both ends.

“No fucking wonder they cast you aside with the rejects!”

“TEN!”

At that moment Yangyang had stumbled over to the sound system, turning off the music and leaving the room in a silent echochamber of held breaths. Everyone stared with eyes either wide as harvest moons or narrowed like twigs about to snap in a bonfire.

Kun had stepped between Ten and Sicheng, grabbing him around the shoulders. Never in all his time as an idol had Kun felt such fury, glared with such intensity as to physically burn. He never would have thought he would speak to his own member in such a way, but to spit on the hard work of the others, to carelessly speak aloud the thing Kun was more than aware they had all silently feared, had all cried to him about at one time or another.

He couldn’t let that stand. Not even from Ten.

"Ten,” he ground out, the name deliberate and heavy on his tongue. “That’s enough.”

With the way Ten was right now, it wasn’t the wisest move for Kun to put himself in the line of his rage. But if drawing Ten's attention to himself succeeded in directing his wrath on Kun instead of the others, Kun would take whatever venom Ten spat his way.

"Because you know best, huh?" Ten seethed, yanking himself away from Kun's hold. “Because being patient and a pushover has gotten you so far right Kun? Left on the sidelines while _he_ gets to fumble around on stage." 

Kun reached for him again and he pulled back. “Leader of all the useless, unnecessary NCT leftovers. Because that’s what was most fitting for you, huh? Always working so hard, trying to impress them, make them notice you for once. But no, SM made it clear long ago, and every damn day they say it again and again. _It doesn't matter what you've accomplished, because you will never be good enough.”_

Finally Ten seemed to run out of breath, his chest heaving as he and Kun held eye contact, a fight for dominance between the group's two eldest. A heavy, tense moment where the future of their friendship, the way they would present themselves to the world from this day forward, hung in the balance.

"Ten." Kun's gaze was hard and steady. His voice low, unwavering. "Go. For. A. Walk."

And miraculously, Ten yielded, clicking his tongue as he turned and left the room with a slam of the door, the sound echoing deafeningly in the silence.

Yangyang was holding back tears, his chin shaking as he tried not to cry. Kunhang left Sicheng in Dejun’s care, crossing the room to him so their youngest could cling to him, a support so he wouldn’t fall apart, the moment too raw and uncertain for him to dare. Yukhei was fuming, hands shaking at his sides, looking like he would storm after Ten at any moment.

Kun's face remained blank.

Finally Kunhang spoke, breaking their uncertain silence, prodded on by Yangyang's desperate tug on his arm. "Kun-ge… should we go after him?"

"No," Kun replied. His voice was still deep and icy. 

Yukhei finally growled, ignorant to the way the rest of the younger line tensed. "He had no fucking right—"

"Enough," Kun immediately cut him off. There was a tenseness in his posture, not his usual loose and casual openness that he carried even when exhausted. It didn’t happen often that Kun invoked his leadership role, especially not in such a way. When he did, he would deflate quickly, immediately feeling sheepish and apologizing to the others to diffuse the negative air of the room. 

Even when he had to scold them for being too wild, too out of focus, he would always bring the energy back up afterwards by commending them for their hard work. Today, Kun didn’t even have the energy to look at them. Words seemed to fail him, the normal salve of his words not forthcoming. All Kun managed was a short huff of breath as he shoved a hand through his hair while finally raising his gaze to look over at the clock on the wall.

Then again, they never had experienced an explosion like Ten before. So this uneasy stalemate of emotions, between rage and despair and loss was unsettling, terrifying. They had no idea what to do.

"That's enough for today,” was what he finally said, moving to grab his things from the corner of the room. He grabbed them silently, slipping his jacket on without looking at them. “Get a car to drive you guys back to the dorm. I'll be home late. Don't wait up." 

And with that he left as well, closing the door with a simple click that somehow managed to echo just as the slam had before.

It was natural of course, that Kun would feel the need to take some time away so abruptly. That like Ten, he needed a moment to cool his head. But it was unnerving all the same. _Kun_ leaving them like this was unheard of. They had no idea where he could be going, anyways, given that it was already long past midnight.

“I,” Kunhang gulped, almost scared of breaking the silence this time. “I guess we’re going?” he said, looking for confirmation from the rest of them. They all instinctively looked to Sicheng, since he was the current senior in both age and the company.

“Yeah,” he replied, finally pulling away from Dejun and wiping his face with the hem of his shirt. “If Kun says so.”

Sicheng's breathing was still laboured, far more than it ought to have been even from a long day of practice. With heavy breaths, hunched shoulders, and the lack of acknowledgement to any of the things Ten had spat about him, it was Dejun who first connected the dots. 

“Gege, you’re not feeling well?” he asked redundantly. There was no denying it now that he’d identified it. It wasn’t that Sicheng was out of breath, but that he was trying to keep himself from being sick. As the flush from working out faded, the unnatural paleness became even more apparent. Dejun grabbed the waste basket from the corner of the room and pushed it into Sicheng's hands. If Sicheng would have been able, he would surely have shook his head. He hated throwing up. Given his current state, though, if he moved unnecessarily he would definitely not succeed in holding it back.

Fuck, it was a wonder Sicheng had even managed to dance as well as he had been.

Dejun helped him by picking up his items, offering Sicheng his water bottle even though he knew he wouldn’t dare drink it.

Once he had both of their things, he handed Sicheng his jacket and took the waste basket from him temporarily. As Sicheng slipped the jacket on, Dejun had to say something that had been weighing on his mind. Sicheng was sensitive, even if he tried not to show it, so he wanted to clear the air. “I was making way more mistakes than you were, gege. Ten-ge shouldn’t have singled you out.”

From across the room Yukhei grunted as he hefted his bag over his shoulder. “We were all fucking up there!” he grumbled, slipping into Cantonese in his irritation. “They went and changed that damn part after we’d all gotten it nailed down!”

“Xuxi,” Kunhang admonished gently, because they didn’t need another member storming off, and because it was rude to slip into a language two of their remaining members weren’t familiar with, even if the meaning easily inferred. 

When they’d made the decision to leave, Kunhang had taken the initiative to contact their manager while Dejun helped Sicheng. He had just gotten the confirmation back that they were okay to leave, and that the manager would be ready to meet them in the parking lot in a few minutes. He hoped that Yukhei could calm himself down before they got there; they generally tried to keep their personal squabbles to themselves, since so much of their lives were already so regulated and scrutinized.

Next to him, Yangyang caught Kunhang’s eye and hesitated a moment before waving towards Ten's pile of items in lieu of saying his name. “Should we wait?” 

Kunhang bit his lip. If Ten was still worked up, which he definitely would be, he would likely want to finish calming down with dancing to release the rest of the tension from his body. And they had no reason to bring his items with them, since they knew he hadn’t left the company building—besides it being off limits to leave so carelessly, it was well into winter and Ten had left his jacket within the practice room.

“His phone wasn’t dead, was it? Let him know we’ve gone home.”

Yangyang nodded and pulled his phone out, sending the message and hearing the telltale sign of the successfully received message from Ten’s bag.

Yukhei had steeled his expression and grabbed half of Sicheng’s things from Dejun’s hold. It was obvious he was still mad, though it could at least be passed off as general weariness so long as he could keep it up until they returned to the dorm. 

None of them were particularly better off. As they all made their way to the parking lot, there was a heavy fog hanging over them. There was something they all knew they would need to address once they made it home.

But only once they made it home.

* * *

The moment they got home they suggested Sicheng take a shower and get to bed, but he refused, saying it’d be useless if he was just gonna throw up and have to take another to feel clean again. In the interest of giving Yukhei more time to calm down, he went first.

After he finished he entered his and Sicheng’s room to change. Sicheng was sitting on the edge of his mattress, head hung low and still clinging to the bin they had stolen from the practice room, while Dejun sat behind him digging his elbow into a knot in his shoulder blade. 

The shower had managed to mellow out his mood, so after Yukhei changed into a pair of sweats and a hoodie he walked over and got Dejun’s attention. “Go shower, I’ll take over,” he said. Dejun nodded and climbed off the bed and left the room while Yukhei slipped into his vacant spot. His massaging method differed from Dejun, but Sicheng seemed to appreciate it regardless. Admittedly, whether the groans were of relief or from the sickness, Yukhei didn’t really know for certain. Eventually he tapped Sicheng on the shoulder. “Winwin-gege,” he started, pointing down to the spot on the floor in front of him, “Can you move down so I can get a different angle to massage your neck?”

Sicheng didn’t make any verbal response, too concerned with keeping his breathing deliberate, but he did slip down to the floor, now gripping the wastebasket between his knees.

After Dejun had emerged from the shower, Kunhang went next. It was as the shower turned off that Sicheng and Yukhei’s phones pinged a few times in a row simultaneously, and then Yangyang appeared in their doorway with his own phone in hand.

“Kun-ge says you gotta throw up,” Yangyang told Sicheng. 

He merely groaned in response. He hated throwing up, always resisted it even when it was obvious it would help him feel better. 

Yukhei almost had to suppress a laugh, but the message made him remember the current situation he had been momentarily distracted from, and it brought back the anger that had been bubbling beneath his skin.

“You talked to gege?” Yukhei clarified, needing a distraction if he wasn’t going to take out his frustration on Sicheng’s poor neck. That was the last thing he needed.

Yangyang shook his head. “Group chat,” he said, and came over to hold the log up for Yukhei to read.

> _Kun_ _  
> _ _Sorry for leaving so suddenly guys. You guys made it home alright?_ _  
> _ _And is Sicheng okay? He wasn’t feeling well, was he?_
> 
> _Yangyang_ _  
> _ _yes gege, we made it home_ _  
> _ _he’s feeling nauseous_ _  
> _ _but like he hasn’t thrown up or anything yet_
> 
> _Kun_ _  
> _ _Has he thrown up?_ _  
> _ _Oh._ _  
> _ _He usually feels better once he has. Tell him to stop holding it back._
> 
> _Yangyang_ _  
> _ _ok_
> 
> _Kun_ _  
> _ _How about the rest of you? Everything okay?_

As Yukhei was reading the final message had appeared, and Yangyang took his phone back to reply. “We’re good, right?” he asked, even though the pings that went off across the room indicated he had sent his message before he’d even clarified.

“Yeah, we’re good,” Dejun said as he came back into the room with his own phone and took a seat on Yukhei’s bed. 

Kunhang appeared in the doorway next, his hair a mess from being hastily towel dried. “Is he okay? What did he say?”

“He just asked if we all made it home,” Dejun summarized as he relayed the message about Kun’s own wellbeing.

While Kunhang zipped back to his own room to change out of his towel and grab his phone, Dejun offered to take back his place massaging Sicheng and Yukhei returned to his own bed. He grabbed his phone and brought up the chat so they would appear as read, just in time for Kun’s reply to appear.

> _Yangyang_ _  
> _ _👍_ _  
> _ _  
> _ _Dejun_ _  
> _ _Yes we’re good gege_ _  
> _ _How about you? You’re good?_
> 
> _Kun_ _  
> _ _I had one of the managers drop me off at a bar. I’ll take a cab home before too long._

Yukhei frowned. That was very obviously a non-answer. He looked up at Dejun and they locked eyes. Obviously he thought the same thing. 

The chat pinged again.

> _Kun_ _  
> _ _Ten hasn’t read any of the messages yet._ _  
> _ _Is he home?_
> 
> _Yangyang_ _  
> _ _no he hasn't got back yet_
> 
> _Kun_ _  
> _ _If he doesn’t either respond or get home within half an hour, let me know._

Because of course Kun would ask about the members even when he himself was obviously trying to deal with his own shit. Heck, Kun had been mad enough to leave practice, to go to a bar to have a couple beers, and yet he was still asking about whether or not Ten got home okay? 

“Yangyang, the shower’s free,” Sicheng mumbled from the floor.

Their youngest member was still hesitating in the doorway, biting his lips as he absentmindedly played with the phone in his hands, before he suddenly found the courage to say what they all must have been thinking.

“Is he okay? What Ten-ge said…” he hesitated, and Yukhei took the moment to fill in the blank.

“Ten can go screw himself.”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean all that he said,” Kunhang spoke up quietly in support of his roommate as he reappeared behind Yangyang. 

“That doesn’t excuse him,” Yukhei snapped, as Kunhang slipped into the room and crawled onto Sicheng’s bed to squeeze himself into the corner and pull his legs up to wrap his arms around them. Yukhei continued, “The fact that the words even came from his mouth means that he was thinking them, even if he wouldn’t have said them if he was trying to not be an asshole.”

Dejun cleared his throat quietly. “He shouldn’t have said all he did about Winwin-ge either.” 

They all stopped, all eyes falling to their eldest present member. Their member who was still taking deliberate breaths in an effort to not throw up his guts. But then Sicheng lifted his chin slightly, though his gaze remained on his bucket, and Dejun paused his ministrations on his neck and shoulders.

“Honestly, I barely heard everything he said,” Sicheng admitted, “It was about me getting to be in 127, right?” When no one replied he took that as confirmation and continued, “About how I wasn’t ready, and yet I was still chosen instead of Ten-ge or Kun-ge.” He took another deep breath, rubbing his fingers against the sides of the bin. “Honestly, I still don’t know why they picked me instead of Kun-ge. For Ten, it was obviously because of his knee. But there’s really no reason why it shouldn’t have been Kun.” He paused. “It really should have been Kun.”

“Gege—” 

Suddenly Sicheng lurched forward, face nearly in the bucket as he violently hurled whatever bug had settled in his gut. The others all grimaced in equal measures of disgust and sympathy, Dejun reaching down to rub circles into his back until he finished. The remaining members looked at one another. There was probably a lot that their eldest three members should be talking to one another about, together, but that was definitely not something that would be happening tonight.

When finally he was done, Sicheng slumped back against the mattress with a groan. 

“You good, gege?” Yangyang asked, returning from the kitchen with a glass of water which Sicheng took gratefully with a weary thanks. He spat his first mouthful into the bucket, then downed the rest. 

“Ugh, I really do feel better after that,” he admitted, sitting back up properly and stretching out his neck. “Thanks Dejun. Thanks Xuxi.”

“You’re welcome,” Dejun replied, “but I think it was the throwing up that did it.”

“Just like Kun said it would,” Yukhei added.

“Kun knows best,” Kunhang murmured.

“I’m gonna take my shower now,” Sicheng continued, and Yangyang held out a hand to help him to his feet. Before he left the room he paused in the doorway. “We need to make it up to Kun-ge. What Ten-ge said might not bother me now, but it’s only because I’ve talked to Kun-ge about it before.” His gaze floated up to the ceiling, recalling a memory. “He said something bad about you guys too, didn’t he?” He looked back at them, catching how they either turned their gazes down or away. Sicheng placed his hand on Yangyang’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “He was wrong, okay?” He looked like he wanted to say more, knew that it wasn’t enough. But Sicheng wasn’t one for speeches, never was good at finding the right words. So he squeezed Yangyang’s shoulder again, nodded to himself, an affirmation, before finally he left.

Once he was gone and the shower was on, Yangyang was once again the one to break the silence. “I’ve burdened Kun a lot,” he said, “You know, like, with being new to NCT, being the youngest when I’m not really the youngest. Like, if Renjun and Chenle do end up joining us one day…” he mussed his hair up with a sigh. “It’s so stupid. They probably won’t even add them anymore. And like, if they do, it’s not like gege has any say in it. I shouldn’t have said anything to him.”

“Hey, it’s nothing to be ashamed about,” Kunhang chimed in. “We’ve all talked about it together, too, before, so it’s not like we’ve only burdened him with it.” He was playing with a nonexistent thread on his pajama pants. “But I mean… you’re not the only one who’s talked to Kun about that kind of this.”

Yukhei sighed loudly. “Yeah.”

“Me too,” Dejun murmured. He refused to look up from the floor, where Sicheng had been. His hands clenched in the blanket, at a loss without anything to do now. He continued, “All the things Ten said. About not ever getting recognition or acknowledged. I’ve often told Kun-ge of all my worries related to that. I didn’t even… I never even considered that _he_ might have felt the same way.”

“Guys, shit.” Yukhei sat up taller, his eyes wide in realization. “I never even realized how you all must feel about me in SuperM. And Kun who’s been waiting so long.” He looked lost. “Man, I feel like such an asshole. I’m no better than Ten.”

“We are proud of you, don’t ever doubt that,” Dejun said, with Yangyang and Kunhang voicing their agreement.

But then Kunhang continued, “You shouldn’t be so hard on Ten-ge either, though.” He was still picking at his pajamas. “He’s listened to a lot of our worries too. Especially mine, since we’re roommates and all. And he doesn’t like to say anything about it, but his knee… it does still bother him, sometimes.”

Once more they all fell into an uneasy silence, that wasn’t broken until all their phones went off with a message to the group chat.

> _Kun_ _  
> _ _No word from Ten?_

“Ah, gege,” Yangyang whined quietly. “Maybe I should call him. He might not have heard it.” They all knew that was a lie. They’d heard the shrill chime when Yangyang had texted him the first time. By now they’d sent quite a few back and forth. But no one called Yangyang out on it while he held the phone up to his ear, before pulling it back down with a sigh as Ten failed to answer. He was about to try again, when their phones all pinged.

> _Kun_ _  
> _ _Nevermind, I just called a manager and he told me Ten’s still at the company._ _  
> _ _He said he’ll drive Ten back once he’s done._ _  
> _ _So I’ll be coming straight home, I’m just grabbing a cab now._
> 
> _Yangyang_ _  
> _ _👍_
> 
> _Dejun_ _  
> _ _see you soon gege_
> 
> _Xuxi_ _  
> _ _^_
> 
> _Yangyang_ _  
> _ _^^^^_

Yukhei threw his phone to the foot of his bed and grumbled. “We couldn’t have even done that for him? He went out drinking and still was the one to make sure everyone was accounted for?” This pissed him off even further, more irritation directed inwards, that he couldn’t have handled something like this for Kun.

“Should I make some ramen for everyone?” Kunhang suddenly suggested, getting up from Sicheng’s bed and rubbing his palms on his pants to smooth out the supposed imperfections, before he hastily made his way out of the room. 

“Could we do a quick cleanup before he gets back?” Dejun suggested, knowing that their dorm was still in the general state of disarray from their morning routines. Even though they had an auntie come in quite frequently to tidy, things never stayed that way for long.

“I’ll do a quick sweep, and scoop the litter boxes” Yangyang offered, “since I haven’t showered yet anyways.” He rushed from the room to grab the broom.

“I’ll go tidy up our room,” Dejun said, standing up.

“I’ll do the living room,” Yukhei suggested, and took the hand when Dejun offered it before following him out. It didn’t take Yukhei long to finish, so he wiped down the table.

It wasn’t long before Sicheng returned from the bathroom, towel drying his hair, and Yangyang jumped in immediately and yet it seemed he did little more than get wet before he was out too. It was obvious he was anxious to see Kun, and didn’t want to miss him making it home. 

Soon after that, Kunhang was calling everyone for supper. But Kun hadn’t shown up yet, so they all hovered in the kitchen uneasily, not wanting to start without him.

“Maybe I should take Bella out to pee,” Yangyang offered. It was something that needed to get done, but more than anything he wanted to get to see Kun as soon as he arrived at the building. He didn’t even wait for a response before he was calling for the dog, meeting her at the door and getting the excitable puppy into her harness. 

The rest of them shared a look. “I guess that wouldn’t be a problem. Maybe take the stairs, it’ll help her burn off some energy since it’s pretty cold outside.”

Yangyang grinned as he pulled his coat and hat on. “Will do! I’ll be right back!” Then the two of them were gone, though they could hear him praising the puppy before his voice vanished as they entered the stairwell. 

It was a few seconds later, from somewhere down at the street, they heard a horn blare and the distant sound of a crash. The remaining members all shared a look of alarm.

"You don't think," Sicheng started.

"Of course not," Kunhang cut him off as he glanced at the time on the oven. "Definitely not."

Yet even as they were speaking, Yukhei slipped out of the kitchen, to the living room, pulling back the blinds and peering down at the streets for the source of the commotion. By the time Kunhang and Dejun and Sicheng rejoined him in the living room to anxiously peer over each shoulders, Yukhei was pulling away and dashing towards the door, shoving his feet into a pair of shoes much too expensive to be handled so carelessly, 

_"It's probably nothing,"_ Yukhei breathed, even as he ran out into the corridor without even grabbing a jacket. He paused briefly, glancing back over his shoulder to where Sicheng, Kunhang, and Dejun all huddled with wide eyes staring back at him. "I'll bring Yangyang back:

And he was gone. The remaining members went back into the apartment, automatically drawn back to the window. Dejun swallowed. “Even if it was something, and I'm sure it wasn't—I'm sure it has nothing to do with us,” he reassured, though it was obvious he didn’t believe his own words. Now that the possibility that something had happened had been presented, there was no way he’d be convincing anyone, much less himself.

* * *

As Yukhei entered the stairwell he could only vaguely hear the last of what must have been Yangyang’s desperate footsteps. “Yangyang!” he shouted. Not unexpectedly, there was no response from the boy. As he made it to the ground floor and exited their dorm building, he couldn't see Yangyang anywhere. There was a light dusting of snow on the ground, just enough for him to see the two paths of a quick-moving boy and dog.

When Yukhei made it out to the street, he had a better view of where an accident had clearly taken place at the intersection down the block. He saw an SUV, still in the middle of the road, it’s bumper smashed, the still glowing headlamp shining downwards where it swung. And when Yukhei scanned his eyes across the rest of the corner he could almost feel his heart jump into his throat when he saw what must have gotten hit, though he could only see the untouched passenger side, as it was turned sideways on the street. 

A taxi. Of course it was a taxi.

Still he refused to believe things were as they appeared. There were plenty of taxis in Seoul, there was no reason this had to be _the_ taxi. Yet as his jog turned into an outright run as he raced down the street, Yukhei could hear the unmistakable sound of barking and his younger brother calling out, tangled mess of barks and "gege!" intermediately in quick succession, high pitched and frantic. 

When Yukhei rounded the taxi, his heart caught in his throat when he couldn’t deny it any more. For there was Kun, laying on the cold, snowy pavement. Bella was still barking, Yangyang holding her in his arms as he knelt next to their gege with tears streaming down his face.

Still, Yukhei didn’t want to believe.

Yukhei didn’t know how much time had passed before he finally moved into gear, kneeling next to Kun and Yangyang despite having no idea what to do or how to help. He could smell the acrid scent of vomit, but in the dark light of night illuminated by shitty streetlamps, and the blinding light of a car that had pulled over across the street, he could barely take in the state of his older brother.

“Kun? Kun-ge?” he choked out, hands reaching to cup his cheeks gently. “Hyung?”

“‘M fine,” Kun slurred, “Drank too much, ‘m fine.” 

The rush of relief at hearing him speak was instant but short lived, as Yukhei realized Kun was shivering against the cold ground. Yukhei cursed aloud. Why hadn’t he grabbed his coat? 

Yangyang must have made the same observation, as he was shifting Bella’s leash beneath his knees so he could shrug his own off. But when the bare skin of his arms was revealed, it was clear that he was not dressed well enough for Yukhei to allow this. He reached out, stopping him from removing it completely. 

“Kun would kill me if I let you do that,” Yukhei said, even as Yangyang glared at him with shining eyes. 

Suddenly someone was kneeling next to them, a woman brandishing a quilt in her arms. “Here, boys,” she said, and they quickly helped spread it over Kun. “Are you his friends?”

“We’re his dongsaengs,” Yukhei replied, switching into Korean. 

The woman nodded. “I’m the driver of the taxi. Don’t worry, he wasn’t sitting at the point of impact; he got out and came around to check on me before he threw up. I helped him lie down, but he seems to have hit his head. It’s possible he could have a concussion, but he was also drinking so I’m not entirely sure.” She trailed off.

Now that Yukhei looked closer, knew what he was looking for, he could see the start of a bruise forming on Kun’s temple. His breath caught in his throat when he realized there was blood, not a lot of it, thankfully, flowing down into his hair. And then the tiny moment of reprieve, something so insignificant and yet still monumentally reassuring to Yukhei’s frazzled thoughts—from beneath Kun’s head, he could see the fingers of a pair of driving gloves peeking out. It wasn’t much, but at least he wasn’t lying entirely against the snow covered ground. 

“I got the blanket from the witness,” she continued, pointing with bare fingers over to the car with its lights shining at them. “He’s keeping an eye on the driver of the SUV. I don’t know what exactly happened. I don’t think they’re drunk, but I haven’t talked to them yet. I was more concerned with making sure your hyung was okay.”

“We can go home soon,” Kun murmured, each of his hands reaching towards his brothers. “I just gotta… if I move, ‘m gonna throw up.”

Yangyang laughed, or at least tried to, though it sounded more like a cough or a sob more than anything. Yukhei said, “You already did, hyung.”

“It’s probably best not to move him regardless,” the woman interjected, “even though he was walking fine earlier, it might have just been the adrenaline.”

“Lucas!”

The three of them all turned as one towards the sudden shout. Further down the street a vehicle had pulled over. It was hard to see with all the headlights shining, but as the man rushed forward he realized it was one of their managers. 

“Manager-hyungnim!”

His eyes were glued upon Yukhei and Yangyang, his expression unreadable as he must have been trying to figure out what on earth they were doing out here at the scene of an accident, before he finally glanced down and it clicked that it was Kun who they were kneeling around. 

“What’s happened here?” their manager frantically asked as he knelt down, trying to gauge what was wrong with Kun before he looked up from him and did the same to Yukhei and Yangyang. “Is everyone alright?” 

“Excuse me, who are you?” the woman interrupted.

“I’m his manager.” 

“We’re fine,” Yangyang finally stammered out, “But we don’t know about Kun-hyung.” 

Bella, back in Yangyang’s arms, had started barking and wiggling like crazy. Because now rushing over from the manager's vehicle was none other than Ten. His eyes were wide, but he moved quickly, already kneeling down with hovering hands outstretched to Kun by the time Yukhei had even realized he was there. 

He reached his arm out to grab Ten’s wrist. “Don’t touch, we don’t know if he’s hurt,” he informed him gently, loud enough to be heard over Bella.

Yukhei didn’t even have a chance to remember that he was mad at him before the manager turned his attention back from the woman to start barking out orders. To Ten, he hissed “I told you to wait in the van!” but then shook his head, suddenly realizing it was a useless battle when there were more pressing matters to attend. “Were either of you witnesses?” he moved on to asking instead. When both boys shook their heads he took stock of the surroundings. “It's just you three here, right? Get back to the dorm right now.”

“But hyung—” Yukhei started.

“Back to the dorm! You’re just in the way here! I’ll handle the situation!” 

Kun reached out a hand from beneath his blanket, his fingers just barely managing to reach up into Bella’s fur. Momentarily, her barks quieted down. “Go,” he said, “I promise, ’m alright. It’ll all be alright.” A smiled up at them, eyes scanning over each of them before ending at Ten. 

They stared at one another for a long moment, and then Ten was grabbing both of their arms, pulling Yukhei and Yangyang up with him as he dragged them back to the dorm building. Nobody dared speak, even as they stood around as they took the elevator up to their floor. It wasn’t until they entered the dorm, the remaining three members rushing from the window to meet them at the door, that Yukhei finally shook his arm out of Ten’s hold and remembered how furious he was with him.

“This is all your fault!” he growled. Tears stung at the corner of his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.

Ten didn’t even respond to the vitriol. He merely looked lost, eerily pale in the yellow light of their entryway. 

“It was Kun?” Kunhang whispered, and at that Yangyang burst into tears. Kunhang pulled him towards himself, wrapping his arms around his shaking shoulders even as he looked up at the others, waiting for confirmation of the opposite despite what was already painfully clear.

“If you’d just kept your stupid temper tantrum to yourself, none of this would have happened!” Yukhei continued, his voice raising to a shout.

“What happened?” Dejun said, his voice high with fear. He was crouched near the ground, trying to remove Bella’s harness with shaking fingers. “Xuxi, please, calm down and tell us what’s happened! Is Kun hurt?”

 _“I don’t know!”_ he breathed, turning his attention to Dejun. A”ll I know is his taxi was hit, Kun-ge was laying on the concrete with blood in his hair, and then the manager and _him_ showed up and we got sent back here.” He whirled back on Ten. “But he would never have been in that taxi in the first place if it wasn’t for you and your stupid fit!”

Ten gaped at him until finally his brain caught up on the conversation, and as he usually did—he hid whatever he might have been feeling behind a mask of rage. “Why on earth was he even in a taxi in the first place?” he snapped, “Why wasn’t he here or at the company building?” 

“Because you hurt him!”

Everyone jumped when Sicheng interjected, all eyes instantly on him. Sicheng, quiet, non-confrontational, pushover Sicheng never spoke up like this, never shouted out of anything other than excitement. But there was a determined glint in his gaze, one that bore into Ten.

“Saying all those things you did, obviously he was hurt!” he started, “But Kun-ge doesn’t like to be a burden, doesn’t want to make us worry… so he went out; to deal with it by himself.” Sicheng swallowed, his hands clenching into the hem of his shirt, but his eyes didn’t leave Ten’s. They weren’t narrowed, or misty, but pleading. “You can say all you want about me, because even I’ll admit that you’re right. Being put here, just in WayV, has been such a relief for me. And then you and Xuxi in SuperM: I’m so proud. _Kun_ is so proud, too.” He stopped to take a deep breath, his gaze wavering for a moment before steadying again. “I still don’t know why they picked me for 127 over Kun, after you weren’t able to do it. But he deserved it. He deserved to debut properly, before NCT 2018, he deserves to be appreciated by more than just WayZenNi’s, and he deserves _our_ support. We should be there for him more than anyone!”

For a moment when Sicheng had started, it looked like Ten was going to continue to fight. But by the end his eyebrows were knotted together, his lips pressed in a thin line. In the silence that hung after Sicheng’s speech, he shut his eyes tight and held his breath. When he finally released it, he looked up at them, all of them, a desperate plea in his gaze. 

“Of course Kun deserves the world. Of course I didn’t mean any of the shit I said about him. It wasn’t about _him_ at all, or _you_ Sicheng. _Any of your guys._ You should know that. You know I love you guys, don’t you?” His eyes were getting misty, his face flushing with heat. “That entire thing was entirely about _my own_ failure to be better. I don’t know why I turned it onto you guys. Onto Kun. Of course I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’m so sorry.” He was crying now, pushing his tears back with the heels of his hands.

Yukhei couldn’t bear to look at him. He turned and stormed away to his room. He didn’t know what the others did, how they handled Ten’s tears—whether he was left alone, or comforted. Whether the others sat up in the living room, waiting for word on Kun’s condition, or whether, like Yukhei, they stared up at their dark ceilings and tried to figure out what they might have to do, should good word never come.

He never even noticed when Sicheng returned to the room, whether it was soon after he had left himself, or hours later, Yukhei didn’t know. He didn’t care.

All he wanted was to know that Kun was okay.

* * *

Winter nights were far too long to spend lying awake in uncertainty.

The next day went by in a haze. Whether it was from the lack of sleep, the exhaustion of a night filled with worry, or from the relief when word of Kun’s condition was finally received in the early hours of the morning, the entire group obviously wasn’t all present mentally or emotionally.

It was just a mild concussion. Kun's head had hit the window when the SUV hit the taxi on the driver side passenger door. Because of the alcohol in Kun’s system, it was difficult for the hospital to determine to what extent his symptoms were from the concussion or from inebriation. It was a long night of Kun being monitored, until the doctor finally gave the okay for him to go home.

Thankfully everyone came out of it alright, with only minor injuries, both the taxi driver and the driver of the van. Though there was still an investigation about the details of the collision, it really had nothing to do with them.

SM made a statement of course. About how Kun's involvement began and ended as the passenger in the taxi, so there was no doubt that he wasn’t at fault. They stated he would be taking a short time to recover from the accident, but that it did not appear that his injuries would push back their comeback date. Still, for some reason that wasn't enough for some people. Comments abounded about whether there was a coverup. Or even if the statement was believed, the question remained: why was Kun in a taxi so late at night in the first place? Coming back from visiting a secret girlfriend? Or was he, heaven forbid, drinking alcohol? As though he weren't an adult—as though he had done something shameful and wrong. The statement hadn’t mentioned how much he had drank (two beer, his regular limit), but still, it _must_ have been excessive… because that would make for a bigger scandal. And who had he been with—alone? Who drinks alone except for an alcoholic? What a bad image for an idol to be projecting. How dare he be the leader, be a part of NCT at all…

It made Ten's blood boil. Out of all of them, Kun deserved this the least. 

But that's just how things always went for Kun, wasn't it? He didn't deserve the hate, just as he didn't deserve the lack of recognition from both the company and fans, or the scorn that Ten had spat at him because he knew it would hurt. All because Ten was mad about something so unbelievably stupid. 

The damned, assine change in the choreography. They had been dancing so long, repeating that stupid change, fighting against muscle memory. It pulled at his old injury, his knee acting up again, and sending dark, resentful thoughts of how things might have been different had he never been hurt in the first place. 

That explained why it happened. 

It didn’t excuse it.

He knew he had to find a way to make it up to Kun. There hadn’t even been time for Ten to even get a chance to apologize, to speak to Kun at all, before they were carted to work and Kun sent to bed.

The manager brought Kun home barely after 6 am, scolding them for remaining awake and giving them only an hour before they were sent back off to the company. Kun had managed a brief smile and wave at the members before they’d drifted off from the relief of the slight reprieve. He now remained at home, under the watchful eye of a manager for the next 24 hours since the collision, to make sure his condition wasn’t more severe. The members couldn’t even text him during the day, since the strain of looking at a screen could make his condition worse; according to their manager Kun was asleep for most of the day regardless, except for when he had to be woken up to be checked on.

By the time they all made it home that night, they were informed that Kun had already had supper and gone back to bed. So despite how they had fretted over him all night and all day, they were still not able to do a thing about it. Dejun and Yangyang were banished from their room until they actually went to bed, but they didn’t object to an early night if it meant the chance to check on Kun earlier. And maybe the others each stopped in the doorway while the two of them got ready by the light from the hallway, checking up on their brother themselves even if they dared not disturb him. 

The 24 hour watch would be over that night, but he would still be sitting out for a bit. Reduced screen time. Avoiding any physical activity that might lead to another head injury. To be safe, he was being allowed another day of home rest, and after that would be checked over to determine how quickly he could ease back into work.

When morning came around, by the time they were herded out the door Kun still hadn’t emerged from sleep.

It was agonizing, going yet another day without getting to see Kun properly. There was a noticeable strain amongst the members. Even if most of them had seemingly forgiven Ten for the outburst that led to everything that had happened, Yukhei remained stubborn, refusing to acknowledge Ten at all, though Ten was being petty himself by not pushing the issue. The worst part was that they knew they were both being stupid. Regardless of how they felt, for Kun’s sake they really ought to have the issue dealt with before he returned.

But Ten couldn’t think about anything except Kun. 

He had sweet-talked a manager into agreeing that they could make today an early night, so that today they would definitely get home in time to see Kun. Early enough for them all to talk, and hug, and tell Kun how much they appreciated him. Early enough for Ten to finally give his long overdue apology.

When they finally arrived home, it was with barely contained nerves, all of them desperate for the chance to see Kun. Yangyang and Dejun kicked their shoes off quickly, rushing to their shared room with the leader. As much as Ten was just as excited as they were, he was also nervous, and took his time straightening out their discarded shoes to calm himself down. 

"Gege?” 

Kunhang's voice came from the kitchen, something odd about the tone, but Ten had no time to dwell upon it, or whether it was directed at himself, before he got his answer.

“Kun-ge?"

Ten frowned. Kunhang still sounded off, a wariness to his voice that was incredibly out of character. There was an audible inhale, and then all at once he shouted.

"Someone! Ten-ge! Ge!"

Instantly Ten was in the kitchen, stumbling through the doorway with desperate urgency. When he got there, he didn't even notice the large pieces of broken glass on the floor, the blood on the counter. Not even Kunhang, crouched near the wall with hovering hands, registered in his vision. Only Kun, a small, broken Kun, blood on his hands, in his hair, shaking and hiding behind his bloody fingers and apologizing between broken sobs.

And even as Ten rushed forward, ignoring the glass piercing into the soles of his feet, even as he knelt down and spoke gently, patiently, waiting for Kun to let them in… even as he did all he could to help, Ten refused to cry, because he knew this was all his fault.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this was posted late for both Christmas and Kun's birthday. Thank you for being so patient Ebba, I'll try my best to get the second chapter done in a reasonable time frame TT It will feature the Kun and Ten content this chapter sorely lacked.


End file.
